


The Company of Myself

by Vethrfolnir



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Other, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-06 23:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vethrfolnir/pseuds/Vethrfolnir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lonely man, driven to insanity with grief. A psychologist, who isn't really all that sane himself. Can the insane cure the insanity in the mind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the game: 'The Company of Myself'

The man sipped on his coffee, admiring the bitter aroma, aptly described as bittersweet. He pondered on why his brother always had it with cream and heaps of sugar. It was like adding impurities to the already perfect drink. Then again, the said brother of his had always been fond of liquorice, and he brushed it aside, blaming it on his sweet tooth.

Setting his coffee cup down on the wooden table, he stretched his hands, and was about to flip open a file for a check if all procedures had been done or if there was any outstanding cases he had missed out by accident. This profession of his, after all, was a delicate one. One simple folly on his part would possibly ruin another’s life. No one would want that, would we? With satisfaction, the man nodded to himself and continued to savour his drink. That is, till the serenity was broken by a knock against his office door, amplified due to the wood of the door.

"Thomassen. May I?"

The English accent in the question had disclosed the visitor's identity long before said person entered. A tall man with blond hair, dressed smartly like the gentleman he claimed to be.

"Ja, Arthur."

Even though he knew full well that he was not in Norway, he could not help but to let out the few occasional words of his native tongue. He thought fondly about his home place, before gazing about the room idly as he waited for Arthur to seat himself. His office was rather... homely. A cool room with comfortable soft rugs, a modest sofa at the side, adjacent to a long bookshelf filled with books. His office was rather grand. Not much of a surprise, since his job was rather high-paying. He made sure that he put the money to well use, furnishing his office in a way that was very comfortable and pleasant to stay in. The Norwegian had spent so many hours caught up at work that the office would be considered as another home of his.

"Let us drop the formalities, shall we, Eirik? We are friends, are we not? Anyway, before I begin rambling, my purpose today is to inform you of a new patient that would be under your care as of now. And there’s no declining it either."

Arthur got up and dropped a thin file on his table. By the time Eirik looked up from the file, the Englishman had long left.

_...It must be important since he did not even give me an option to reject this case. Hm..._

With a sigh, he flipped open the file. What else was there to do? There was a brief summary of the profile, but all Eirik needed was the name and the address of his new patient.

"Magnus Densen..."

He mumbled his name experimentally. The name was familiar to him. Seemed rather European to Eirik. At least he was confident that he would not be embarrassing himself on the first visit by making the mistake of an incorrect pronunciation. He had quite a lot of such embarrassing experiences. His eyes finally found its mark, the address he needed. To Eirik's unseen delight, the location of his new patient was not all that far. As he got up and prepared to leave the office, he could not help but to read the minor details of the profile, right below the address.

**Tried for the Murder of his Wife. Sentence not given.**

****

****Reason: Instability of the Defendant's Mental Health****

  


_Murder…. The damn Brit._

His eyes widened minutely before a small scowl appeared on his face. Trust that Brit to drop him this kind of case without first consulting him. These were the times he questioned Arthur's work ethnics. He made a mental note to seek some sort of revenge on Arthur. At least he found out the reason for the said man’s hasty retreat out of his office.


	2. The First meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eirik meets his patient and gets a nasty surprise.

Eirik ended up being there sooner than he had earlier expected. After looking around, looking, not snooping, mind you, he found it rather disturbing to think that such an ordinary looking household was owned by a potentially dangerous and murderous person who also happens to be mentally unstable. After giving the door three sharp raps with his knuckles, Eirik stood back, making sure that he was at least two steps away from the door. Just in case that door swings outwards. It actually happened to the poor Norwegian once, but that would definitely be off the point. After a brief moment of waiting, the door finally opened, and at the doorway stood a tall spiky-haired blond. Eirik also happened to note that the door swung inwards.

"Who are you…?"

The man, who was obviously Magnus, easily identified since his picture was on the file cover, asked with a slightly downtrodden and bored tone. It didn't fit that face of his. He had seemed to be someone full of vigour, not someone who was half-dead and disinterested in everything around him.

"Thomassen. Eirik Thomassen. I would be the psychologist you were expecting."

Eirik professionally held out his name card which he retrieved from the cardholder he carried in the breast pocket of his overcoat.

"Hej. Do come in. I'll share my story with ya, I guess…"

With that, he gestured for Eirik to enter and grabbed the card at the same time.

_Rather rough grip, that Magnus._

It was rather amusing for the Norwegian to note that Magnus seemed to be cheered up rather quickly. He made a mental note that the Dane was probably lonely during this period of time.  
Without further ado, Eirik started getting to work, looking around and observing the man and the conditions of his living. After all, how a man lived and his habits were huge clues to the personality of the owner. Weirdly, Eirik noticed that almost everything in his house were in pairs. Two bowls of rice set on the table with some other dishes around it, two pairs of sandals on the floor. Being a mildly curious person, Eirik strolled a little closer to the bowls on the table, at the same time observing the surroundings. Sadly, the Norwegian seemed to have a penchant for being disrupted halfway through his tasks.

"Hey! That's for my wife!"

Eirik was taken aback by the sudden outburst and hurriedly mumbled an apology as he immediately removed himself from the dining table. He had not expected such a sudden and violent reaction from the Dane, obviously.

‘…Isn't his wife dead? Does he know that he killed her?’

That was rather questionable; Eirik frowned as he reached into his coat pocket, fishing out a notebook. He jotted down his observations while thinking of how he should deal with this man. He settled on an ice-breaking session on the first day. Best not to take things too quickly, after all. With his experience, he very well knew that he had to fully understand the man and the situation before he could attempt to help the Dane.

"So… What's your name?"

"Magnus Harold Densen."

Eirik deduced that since he remembers his name, it would be a less likely chance that he was suffering brain damage or memory loss. But why did he seem oblivious that he was the cause of his beloved wife's death? That, he did not know. He didn’t rule out the possibilities of having memory loss either. Perhaps it was selective?

"Where are you from, Densen?"

"Copenhagen. My wife and I migrated here to work. And call me Magnus instead."

‘A fellow Scandinavian? That's rather nice. Explains why he sounds like he had a potato wedged in his mouth. Ah. His accent, I mean.’

Eirik was trying to fight back a small snicker as he composed himself, reverting back to having a straight and a serious face as he continued on with his questioning.

"You mentioned a story just now, Magnus. Care to share?"

"It's too long Eirik! How about another day?"

He seems too cheered up to the Norwegian at that very moment. Eirik flipped through the pages of his notebook to check his schedule, and found a slot where he was free.

"Tomorrow, at say… 3pm?"

"Mm... sounds great!"

Eirik started to think that he was a little blinded by that megawatt smile of Dane. Not only that, he was rather sure that Magnus just managed to break the record for the fastest mood change ever. Then again, he considered that his claim was rather exaggerated. Eirik leisurely made his way to the door, before being promptly shoved rather hurriedly out. By none other than his Danish patient.

"Hurry, hurry! I don't want to be late for my dinner. My wife hates that. Farvel!"

In a state of confusion, he closed the door just when Eirik turned around. Before it closed, Eirik managed to catch a glimpse of a box and two flowers on the window sill behind Magnus.

Rather _interesting_ decorations.

Before he made his leave, Eirik ended up standing outside for a while, collating the notes and the observations he had gathered in this brief meeting. Truthfully, it was rather creepy, since the poor Norwegian had to endure some laughter from the inside of Magnus' house as he read the files and the notes. Furthermore, he was rather confident that there was only one occupant in the house. Shrugging it off by convincing himself that he was just listening to talk shows or something, Eirik decided to head straight home instead of his office, seeing that it was rather late. And for once, the bus was punctual and there was a seat.

Eirik settled for looking out of the window throughout, and daydreaming as per normal. He found it rather amusing that he ended up being a psychologist. He was known to be very queer, and had many doubting his abilities. Not that he really cared. After all, the best psychologist is a _mad_ one.

The blond got off at his stop, whistling softly as he strolled to his house. Eirik fished out the house keys from his back pocket. Before noticing something that was terribly amiss.

‘Hang on one second. Why the hell is my house lights on. Who the heck is in there?’

_Faen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess what's going on at the end of the chapter.  
> Also, I hated this chapter honestly. Well, it should get better as I replay the game and reread my plan I had for this story.

**Author's Note:**

> I would be putting in a few takes of my own, to liven up the story a little. I do hope I do the game justice.


End file.
